


Once, There Were Dragons

by ArtForRogue



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - How to Train Your Dragon, Dragons Galore, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Meet-Cute, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtForRogue/pseuds/ArtForRogue
Summary: Shiro has been unable to fly on dragonback for years following the loss of his arm. It’s an inevitability from his illness that he has long since come to terms with, but Shiro feels there is something more to be done.When his dragon starts to disappear night after night, coming home at the brink of dawn with mysterious scales, Shiro decides to follows her and discovers something that changes everything.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 196





	Once, There Were Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my two betas christie and chel!

Shiro wasn’t very good with dragons, to be honest.

They were as commonplace as the sheep littering the island and just as integral; used as transportation, entertainment, and companionship, Shiro would argue that losing your dragon would be akin to losing a limb. 

While most dragons came off as too excitable or detached, Black had always been perfect for him. 

She had seen the sickly, thin viking within the group of excited children and picked  _ him _ when she could have had any rider she wanted from the bunch. As a Night Fury, there was no rarer sight on their tiny island -- with glazed black scales that allowed them wicked speed that tore through the sound barrier and a nasty bunch of fire simmering deep in their belly, they were all but worshipped. 

Ignorant ways had seen them hunted to near extinction. She may well be the last of her kind. 

But still Black pawed her way towards him and sniffed his trembling, outstretched hand, and accepted him with a gentle nudge into his palm. 

Some of the children were big enough to ride their selected dragons away from the ceremony, leaving in great whoops of joy and giddy excitement, but Black let Shiro lead her from the plaza and back to the small house he shared with his grandparents and their two Timberjacks. 

“She’s young, like you.” His grandpa had declared that night as they sat around the fire cooking their celebratory meal. “This means you can grow together.” 

Shiro knew his skinny arms wouldn’t hold him to Black even at her slowest. A saddle would help in terms of keeping him grounded, but there had to be meat on him to keep from being snapped in half from the sheer amount of wind pressure. Even as a child of ten years, Shiro knew this was a path he could not falter on if he ever wanted to fly with his dragon -- with Black. 

And as he turned to her and looked into her great, big purple eyes, Shiro knew he would do anything for his friend. 

In the end, it wasn’t enough. 

There were good years between them where Shiro shattered flying records time and again, where he helped the younger kids with their own first flights and their clumsy attempts to bond with their dragons while Black sunned herself on the highest rock. Years where he flew with his boyfriend and felt so free he would land with tears in his eyes and a wobbly smile to match. Those years, earned by all of Shiro’s hard work, were the best of his life. 

It all came crashing down one particularly cold evening, when a seizure hit while he was up 12,000 feet in the air and Shiro fell from his saddle. 

Black caught him but...nothing following that was the same. 

Shiro lost his arm a year later. 

He was never very good with dragons and now he couldn’t even ride them no matter how much he wanted to. There were prosthetics for missing hands, feet, legs, yes, but nothing for an entire arm. Anything that touched that bundle of shot nerves was enough to make Shiro pass out from pain -- pain that followed him constantly now, nipping at his wrist and ankles like a hungry hatchling he had forgotten to feed. 

In the end, Shiro tried to pass Black on to the next best rider with the idea that was best for her -- for her to still have the chance to fly. 

After all, Shiro was never very good with dragons. 

But that’s exactly why Black was perfect for him -- because when he shouted at her to leave him, when he explained they could never fly together again, she sat down in a huff at his bedside and refused to move. Black was just as stubborn as Shiro and the audacity of it was enough to make Shiro laugh until they turned to sobs, and even then, all she did was plop her head down in his lap and wait for the tears to stop before licking his cheeks free of the salty water.

“You really don’t mind?” Shiro had asked in quiet wonder. 

He didn’t expect anything back from her -- dragons were full of wonder, but they certainly couldn’t talk -- but Black’s answering huff sounded a lot like laughter. 

***

It’s been years since then. Shiro originally moved from the village because he had been embarrassed by his injury, but now he regrets it when he has to wake at dawn if he wants to visit his grandparents at a respectable time. Black doesn’t mind, though, more than happy to glide above him and catch the occasional snack along the way, chuffing up ahead to let him know if she’s managed to down a sheep she wants to share. 

It’s simpler now. Shiro may have had grand aspirations as a kid, but that’s what they were -- childish dreams. He still makes his way into the village twice a week to teach the newest class of kids the basics of flying but that’s about it. Matt comes to visit on his Monstrous Nightmare every so often -- “To make sure you’re still alive, you ass,” -- and bring news he might have otherwise missed. 

Playing with Matt’s dragon Kerberos is the only time Black allows herself to fly like she’s really meant to and neither Matt nor Shiro can keep their eyes off her as she zips off with a roar. 

It’s so bittersweet to see her as she should be and Shiro hates himself for envying her. 

Despite all of Matt’s valiant attempts to talk about the prosthetics his family are working on -- with Shiro in mind, no less -- Shiro can’t ever bring himself to look at the models. His shoulder throbs with pain just at the thought and it’s only when Matt turns his head away that Shiro realizes his tone was too sharp for a conversation between friends. 

“I’m sorry.” Shiro offers when he sees Black break over the horizon, Kerberos struggling a few clicks behind but keeping a valiant effort.

“I know you’re happy up here, but we all miss you,” Matt sighs, “even if you don’t think we do.” 

It’s a fair point. Shiro can’t bring himself to think of anything decent to say in return by the time Black lands on the cliff and looks excitedly between her two favorite people. She goes for Shiro instead, grumbling for treats she knows Shiro will reward good behavior for. 

When Shiro runs his hand over her scaled hide, he’s surprised to find a single white scale along her back, wedged in between. When he plucks it from her to examine in further detail, her pupils widen to near full moons as she leans forward to sniff.

It catches Matt’s attention, but only after he’s done greeting Kerberos. “What’s that?”

“It was on her. She’s not old enough to start going white, is she?” It was common in dragons to lose their pigmentation as they grew older, but Black was young. There was a bit of irony to it, Shiro thought, as he remembered his own hair that had gone white years back due to the stress of his illness. Maybe they would soon be a matching pair?

“Black?” Matt frowns as he rounds the dragon in question, hands on her hide to look for more suspicious white scales but coming up clean. “She’s too young. It might be stress or a diet deficiency…” As soon as he says it, Matt stands straight and locks eyes with Shiro. “Don’t freak out.” 

Shiro bites back his very rude reply to insist, “I’m not.” 

_ He was.  _

Black, sick? Where on the island would they find someone to treat a dragon that could very well be the last of her species? Night Furies were a reclusive bunch and so little was known about them...as could be seen here, with two men floundering over a very confused dragon for having one strange scale on a random afternoon. 

“I’ll ask Pidge when I get back to town. It’s probably nothing but if anyone could find some useful information, it would be her.” 

Matt’s promise is true, Shiro knows, but the pit of worry has already sunk its deep weight into Shiro’s stomach. Was this his fault? 

Shiro looks at the scale once more but only after Matt leaves, so he doesn’t know the true extent of his worry. It’s glossy, similar to Black’s but not a perfect match. It’s smaller, too, with purple and pink hues only to be seen when rotated under the sun’s direct light. It’s beautiful in a way that mirrors the colors hidden in Black’s dark scale, with blue and purple and sometimes flecks of gold when she does her annual big shed. 

“What are you keeping from me?” Shiro asks. 

On the cliff, Black stares out past the horizon and chuffs, just once. 

***

Shiro keeps an eye out for any more white scales and almost feels disappointed when he doesn’t find any more. There doesn’t seem to be any changes to Black either; her appetite is still as roaring as ever and there’s no end to her energy. 

It throws Shiro for a loop. He almost considers walking down to the village to let Matt know it was all a false alarm when, one night, Shiro wakes at a dead hour and Black is gone. 

It’s not unheard of. Sometimes she flies down to the pond at the bottom of the cliffside for a drink or in search for a midnight snack. Shiro props himself up in bed to wait for her return, lighting a candle to keep himself company for the time being. The nice thing about having the scariest dragon on the island is that Shiro doesn’t worry as he walks outside to the cliff. 

He peers down to the pond in a vain attempt to see her shadow dart about, but sees nothing but still water. 

Shiro returns to bed after a quiet fifteen minutes and wakes up the next morning to her curled up at his bedside. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Shiro reaches down and gives her an affectionate pat, thinking nothing of the way she grumbles at being woken. 

It was just a one time thing,  _ surely.  _

Shiro stays up longer the next time he wakes to Black gone. 

He’s still without his dragon when he falls asleep two hours later. 

There are more white scales on her when she returns that morning, though she doesn’t wake when Shiro pulls them off her. Black sleeps well through lunch, an act so foreign Shiro would be sure she is dead if not for the steady rise and fall of her chest against his palm. 

When she leaves again, Shiro makes coffee and settles in for her return. 

Is it possible for a dragon to look guilty? Shiro clears his throat when Black returns at the crack of dawn and is treated to a shocked hiss on her part that immediately melts into a plaintive chirp. She scurries as fast as she can to his bedside, even has the audacity to dip her head under his covers and climb into Shiro’s narrow bed with him. 

Black’s head pops out from the covers, next to Shiro’s hip, and she pins him with her best puppy-eyed look that’s worked on Shiro since he was a wee boy. It’s nothing less than damning. 

“I’m not mad,” Shiro sighs when he hears the rumbled gargle gathering in her throat, “but where are you going?” 

Black shuffles forward until her head is resting on the pillow beside Shiro’s, eyes no longer trained on him. She sighs, as if this pains her just as much as it worries Shiro. He reaches out and strokes down her back in a manner he can only call trained, watching for any sign that his dragon is dying and it’s all his fault. 

“Can I come next time?” Shiro asks this with no expectation of an answer, but lets out a startled shout when Black flops all 600-something pounds of her scaly flesh onto Shiro in delighted glee. She licks his face until he promises to do just that, and even then doesn’t let him off easy. 

Shiro climbs from bed with a slicked back look that he knows for a fact won’t come out with anything less than 3 washes. 

Seems he is going to follow his dragon on her nightly escapade. 

***

  
  


It takes Shiro awhile to convince the pier master that he isn’t renting the boat at nightfall just to go and drown himself against the sharp rocks that surround the island. Shiro ignores it when said pier master whispers, “Don’t let Shirogane do anything stupid,” to Black as they walk to the rentals. 

Black sneezes on the man and for that, Shiro loves her. 

They are blessed by calm weather that night. Shiro can’t move as fast as Black with his one arm so she glides above on the warm undercurrent just a click ahead, head tilted back in a way that tells Shiro the flight is especially pleasant. Shiro lets his eyes trail up, past her dark figure, to the first stars starting to dot the twilight sky. As a child his grandparents would name them for Shiro, outlining the pictures they were meant to make and explaining the stories attached to them. 

With his thigh holding the ship’s tiller steady, Shiro lifts his hand to the sky and matches a star to each finger. His heart feels at ease at the familiar sight but a laugh erupts from him when Black clouds his vision of the night sky. “Hey!” Shiro calls, indignant at the interruption but unable to stop laughing. 

She answers in her deep, friendly chuff before kicking up her wings to regain her earlier position. When Shiro’s gaze follows her this time, he’s surprised to see a faint fog just ahead, dotted only by the occasional ragged rock. Immediately, his hand goes back to the tiller to inch him through the treacherous waters. Without Black at his helm, clearing the fog with her spitfire, Shiro is sure he would have drowned just as the pier master had worried. 

It’s an unsettling thought, but Shiro lets it fuel his concentration. 

The one time he bumps against a crag and lets out a shout of alarm, but Black is back to the boat immediately, ultimately doing more harm than good as the boat creaks under her weight. 

“I’m fine!” Shiro assures her when Black presses her muzzle to his cheek and huffs with worry. She voices her worry with a few more anxious glances about the boat but ultimately takes off again, if only to circle back around to Shiro. 

They continue that way for what feels like forever, but Shiro can tell they’re getting close by the way Black is bobbing up and down in the air. He feels that, were he not here, she would burst through the mist in a sonic boom that would shake the earth to its core. 

Shiro can almost feel the memory of air rushing past him when he finally sees a beach. Black chatters her excitement as she hurries forward, clearing a path through the mist in the meantime that Shiro uses to his advantage to dock safely in the soft grains of sand. 

The mist is gone for the most part, revealing a forest of thick, dark trees that lead into the island indefinitely. It’s not any place that looks familiar to Shiro, but then again he was more prone to staying in the air and spotting islands that way instead of touching down to explore. 

“Where are we?” Shiro asks himself, unable to keep from moving towards the forest, Black right beside him. He can feel the energy thrumming off her, hide jumping in little bursts and her gurgle increasing in volume with each step. In all their years, Shiro has never seen Black react in such a way -- but he’s amused by it more than anything. It’s clear that whatever is here, Black is in no danger. 

Before Shiro can breach the thick wall of ivy separating the forest from the beach, there’s a call from the cliffs. Black jumps at the sound, chattering louder, wings pumping in a faux takeoff. But then she looks to Shiro where he’s tangled in the ivy, and she stops, clearly torn. 

The call sounds off again, more distant this time, and Black follows the echo of it with her entire body, pointed like an arrow to the highest point in the forest. It’s a three-hour hike on foot, but she could be there in minutes if she wanted. If Shiro wasn’t holding her back. 

“Go.” Shiro offers. When Black tilts her head back to him, her pupils blown out to full moons, Shiro knows she’s fighting every instinct thrumming inside her body to stay with her rider. “It’s up on the cliffs, right? I’ll meet you there.” 

It takes one last soft sound of encouragement for Black to leave, but her urgency shakes the ground as she takes off to the night sky. Shiro can’t see her dark hide against the sky but for the missing stars in her shadow, gone in seconds and leaving him to fend for himself. 

There’s trust there -- Black wouldn’t leave Shiro in an unknown forest if she thought he was in any danger. Shiro is grateful for it, but pulls his sword free all the same. 

***

Shiro makes good time to the cliffside, maybe two hours and a quarter, maybe less, but it’s a true kind of dark by the time he finds the path to the summit. 

It’s a carefully paved kind of path -- beaten down by dragons or animals or both. Still, Shiro can’t see shit. 

He uses his hand to feel the cold smoothness of the stone that lined the path as a guideline, blind otherwise and hoping that Black is somewhere nearby to help him. Shiro can feel the cold sweat trailing down his back from the hike uphill, made all the worse by the thin air he had grown unused to. It makes his thin cotton shirt cling to him that much worse, itchy and unpleasant in every way possible. 

Unable to hear anything other than crickets, Shiro calls into the darkness, “Black?” 

Her familiar, warm purple eyes blink open a few feet away and Shiro feels a rush of relief.  _ There she is!  _

But Black makes no move towards Shiro -- she just stares from her spot on the cliffside. It’s odd how stagnant she is right now. Did she fall asleep while Shiro hiked? He might have had longer to think on it, or even step towards her, when another pair of yellow eyes blinked open to her left. 

Then another pair, in front of her. 

Then two more pairs, three, five, ten, alternating in colors now. 

Green, blue, yellow, red, purple…

There had to be sixty -- no, maybe a hundred -- dragons staring at Shiro. Black chuffs from her spot in the back, an almost mournful sound, and a fire bursts to life beside her in turn. From the stone rises a disheveled young man, wiry and sleep-mussed and covered by a cloth of white. Shiro’s mind barely has time to register how beautiful he is before everything blacks out. 

***

The familiar sandpaper quality of Black’s tongue is what eventually wakes Shiro. 

She starts with his hair, near lifting his head off the ground with the power of her licking, before nuzzling against Shiro’s cheek with a worried chuff. “Mmf.” A grunt from Shiro satisfies her enough to get her to stop, but not go away. She chuffs again before laying beside him and resting a large, leathery wing over him. 

Shiro might have a splitting headache, but he knows better than to be rude. “Thanks, Black.” She doesn’t make any attempt to move, so Shiro lets himself lie still a moment later with her heavy wing keeping him from the cold morning breeze. 

Actually, that burst of wind is too strong to be any breeze. It goes from a gentle tickle to tearing at Shiro’s clothes in mighty wing beats just near his head. His eyes open to the sight of a Night Fury landing in the clearing, a rider atop her with a sling of some sort held in her jaws. When she turns her purple-eyed gaze to Shiro, he immediately knows the Night Fury in question is his Black. 

He glances down to the mighty wing covering him and nearly balks at the creature holding him captive. It’s not Black -- not even a Night Fury, really, white as snow and with icy blue eyes watching Black’s descent with great interest. The dragon licks his lips with anticipation as the rider jumps down with his own sling attached to his back, with nary a glance to Shiro as he wiggles his way free. 

It’s a fumbling thing, getting free from a dragon, and Shiro trips over his own feet as he stands only to stop a foot away from a neighboring nest. The Night Fury there eyes him warily but does nothing in response, though her mate bares his teeth quick enough. “Sorry,” Shiro whispers as he moves to give them more space. By the time he turns back to Black, the rider is standing before him with slings full of fish underneath both arms. 

Shiro somehow bites back the yelp bubbling in his throat and it comes off as an awkward cough, instead.

It’s the man from last night -- albeit wind-tousled and with cheeks pink from the cold snap of the morning. He’s as gorgeous as Shiro remembers, even more so up this close. His eyes are an unnatural purple, so deep a hue Shiro thought no human could achieve such a fantastical color. When Black comes up beside the rider and nuzzles her head into Shiro’s side, he’s startled by the similarity of their colors. 

The rider’s eyes are downcast now, though, looking to Black as she rubs herself against Shiro with the affectionate vigor of a friend long lost. “So you do know Black.” He turns back to Shiro and, with something like resigned acceptance, shoves one of the slings into Shiro’s arms. “Help me feed the dragons.” 

With the feeling that something terrible will happen if he doesn’t comply, Shiro sets to work helping. The Night Furies surround them quickly at the sight of fish, chuffing and snorting excitedly in noises that can only be described as...cute? A mother, round with eggs, gets the first fish of the lot. After she has her meal it falls to chaos -- the remaining dragons are unafraid of pushing up against Shiro to get their meal, licking him in gratitude once their fish is snatched from his fingers. 

Shiro somehow ends up on the ground, robbed of all his fish. 

The rider is there once the crowd disperses, a hand out to help him up. “Do you let all dragons bully you like this?” His tone is unfriendly, but Shiro can see the hint of an amused smile at the corner of his mouth. 

“I’ve never seen any Night Furies besides my own.” And to somehow find a cliffside full of a hundred mated pairs tending to eggs or fresh hatchlings is something Shiro doesn’t know how to comprehend. “I didn’t -- we all thought she was the last of her kind.” 

“Black  _ is  _ one of a kind,” the rider admits with an easy shrug as they turn to look at her, up at the top of the cliffside, “but she’s certainly not the last.” When Shiro looks to him with open-mouthed admiration, the rider finally cracks a laugh. “I’m Keith.” 

“Shiro.” 

“Welcome to the Isle of Night, Shiro.” Keith takes him back up the trail to Black, scooping up a wayward hatchling on the way and taking it with them up to the top. It squirms in his arms in a determined effort to break through, but Keith clearly knows what he’s doing so it’s gently thrown to the air to glide back down to its parents. 

Up this high, Shiro can look down the layered cliffside to see each individual nest and the sheer numbers Keith is working with. It’s truly magical to see so many Night Furies together and for a moment Shiro fears he might cry. He turns to Black, sure this is what she meant to share with him, only to be stunned to silence once more. 

Within her nest is a single egg, black as night. With Shiro’s eyes on her, Black nudges it closer to her, where it rests safely against the curve of her stomach. She chitters softly when Shiro kneels before her and even allows him to skim his fingers atop of the dome of the shell. “ _ Black _ \--” Now Shiro really is going to cry, “you’re a mom?” 

“You didn’t know?” Keith asks as he throws the slings towards a small door built into the stone -- likely leading to Keith’s home, if Shiro had to guess. But he can barely think of anything but his dragon having her own hatchling, at the moment. “She’s been coming to the Isle for a few weeks now. The egg was a few days ago.” 

When she got sloppy with her night-time escapes, maybe? Shiro just shakes his head, full of warm wonder. “But it’s just one?” 

“Just one,” Keith confirms as he sits beside Black, his hand going to massage her swaying tail. The touch is careless, familiar, and Shiro is once more reminded of the fact that he woke to Keith riding her. “That tends to happen with hybrids.” 

The question was on the tip of Shiro’s tongue, begging to be asked, when Black peered over his shoulder and snorted in greeting. The white dragon from earlier weaves around Keith and Shiro to enter the nest, placing the fish reverently in front of Black before curling against her side.  _ Ah.  _

“Atlas is our only male Light Fury on the Isle.” Keith answers Shiro’s questioning gaze. “He’s something of the Alpha here; your Night Fury really knew who to go for.” 

_ Light Fury? Alpha? _ Shiro barely knew what kind of food Black liked to eat, much less any hierarchy dragons abided by. “You...really seem to know a lot about dragons, Keith.” It’s both a question and a statement, but the dry look Keith shoots him makes Shiro chuckle nervously. 

“This Isle has been guarded by the Marmora for seven generations. I’ve been watching over it since I bonded with my own dragon.” Keith didn’t seem like the prideful type, but his chest puffs out just a little as he explains. “When this group of Night Furies are done, the Isle will be quiet and I can return home. But until then, it’s my job to keep them safe from poachers and marooned riders.” At this, he motions to Shiro. 

“I’m not here to hurt them.” Shiro promises before he can stop himself. “I was just worried about Black.” 

But Keith doesn’t look like he cares for what Shiro has to say -- he looks at war with his own feelings, hands stilling against Black’s tail. When he turns to Shiro, it looks like he’s decided to be mournful. In a tiny, gruff voice, Keith mutters, “No, you’re here to steal my dragon.” 

It hits Shiro that Keith is young -- not much younger than him, but maybe by a few years. There’s a barely-there dusting on his jaw; the line of his nose is jagged, broken from a fight or some accident; his hands are rugged in a way that makes Shiro want to scoop them into his own and feel the hard calluses. Keith is a rider. And when Shiro woke, what dragon did he ride? 

“Has….Black been coming here for a long time?” Shiro asks. He knows the answer in the way Keith looks to her now, longing and full of affection. 

“Every year for the last twelve years. She used to come less frequently and sometimes only during the night, but over the last few years I’ve seen her more and more. I thought it was because she was ready to create a nest here on the Isle.” Keith turns back to Shiro and his eyes skip to Shiro’s missing arm. “I always knew she was too friendly to be wild. I just didn’t know she had a rider back home.” 

It stings to know that Black’s day-long flights were trips  _ here,  _ to  _ Keith,  _ but Shiro can’t bring himself to be mad. He looks to her and the egg resting against her belly and knows there’s nothing she could ever do to make him mad. “...Thank you for taking care of her.” 

The silence between them is awkward but Shiro doesn’t know how to break it. He’s been given so much information in such a short little time; the knowledge of other Night Furies, the existence of Black’s egg and mate, her other rider….Shiro feels numb as he looks down at his hand. 

This is what she had wanted to show him. To share with him. 

To let him know everything would be okay.    


“Keith, I….” Shiro swallows as he fights for the right words. “I can’t fly Black anymore. I haven’t been able to since I lost my arm. If she’s happy here, then I want her to stay here. With you.” He looks up and meets Keith’s wide-eyed gaze with a stern resolution of his own. “It’s what’s best for her.” 

He waits for Keith’s gratitude with a sinking feeling in his stomach only to be snapped from it by Keith’s indignant, “Are you a fucking idiot?” 

Keith’s immediately up from the ground, stepping into Shiro’s space with a hand bunched into his shirt collar. The anger there, boiling Keith’s purple into something molten, leaves Shiro speechless. “Black returns home because she  _ loves  _ you. There’s nothing you could say to that dragon that would make her stay here, you damned idiot! It’s all well and good to make decisions for your dragon without any thought to her feelings, isn’t it?” 

Before Shiro can sputter anything in reply, Keith is hauling him up and shoving him back from the nest with a strength that really wasn’t appropriate for his lean frame. Black lets out a concerned noise from her place in the nest, eyes wide as she watches her two riders fight. 

“She brought you here because she wants to share this with you, Shiro!” Keith continues, anger only growing, “And you still think you’re not enough for her?” 

It hurts how  _ right  _ Keith is. Shiro would call his accusations ill-informed or born from jealousy, but really Keith is as much of Black’s rider as Shiro is. He knows what it is to have a partner as special as Black. 

Both men turn to Black, who only coos hopefully from her place in the nest. Immediately, Shiro feels like an ass for wanting to abandon her as he thought was best. Hadn’t he grown past his original mistake, made so many years ago? 

“I’m sorry, Black.” Shiro answers in turn, stepping closer to put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “We’re okay.” 

Keith doesn’t move from Shiro’s touch until Black folds her wings back to her side, revealing that tiny little black egg tucked to her side. He sighs as he agrees, saying, “This will work. Somehow.” 

***

After, when Black has closed her eyes to nap, Keith invites Shiro into the house he’s carved into the cliffside. It’s barely the size of a shack -- tiny and crude, a true mirror of its creator -- but Shiro is grateful to be hidden from Atlas’ judgemental gaze, if just for a moment. 

Not that Keith’s gaze is any better. 

There’s still a bit of a pain lingering at the base of Shiro’s skull, where he had been hit the night before, so he doesn’t have the energy to refuse the tea Keith offers him. He sputters at the horribly bitter taste that hits his tongue and hopes Keith won’t think it rude if he lets the cup go cold. 

Wordlessly, Keith pushes a small clay bowl filled with sugar towards Shiro. He remains silent when Shiro adds a sizable amount to his cup. 

Shiro takes the time to study the little homely touches Keith has added to the house -- he has no idea how long a Night Fury’s nesting period takes, but surmises it must be lengthy since Keith has a little of everything available. There are crude drawings and paintings, potentially homemade ones, on the walls of Night Furies, along with what looks to be portraits of family members. 

There’s a few more items of interest but Shiro startles when he sees the astrological charts. 

“My Uncles map the stars.” Keith explains when Shiro stares for too long at the high-quality wool dyed black as night and stitched together with simple white lines to represent the movement of the heavenly lights. “I’ve no hand for it, myself.” 

Shiro turns to Keith with his ears burning red from embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to be caught  _ staring.  _ “Just dragons, then?” 

Miraculously, it pulls a laugh from Keith. “I fly when I can. Atlas makes for a good Alpha, but he doesn’t like it when I pull his mate away for long afternoon flights. He would drag me off her if he could catch us.” 

“You don’t ever fly with Atlas?” Shiro asks before downing the last of his cup. 

“No one can fly Atlas. Few try and even fewer make it from their attempt unscathed.” Keith reaches up to the long scar curving across his right cheek and taps the marred skin, though he does not look like he regrets the mark in the least as he says, “Light Furys are even pickier than Night Furys with their choice in riders. I’ve only ever seen one bonded before, and that was to the woman who saved her life -- our Island healer, Romelle.” 

Shiro finds he has a thousand questions for Keith. It’s almost embarrassing how eager he is to learn, but Keith is more than happy to share his knowledge with a fellow rider. It’s only when Shiro reaches forward to refill his cup for a third time and finds the kettle empty that he realizes how much time has passed. 

When Keith stands to fetch more water, Shiro wonders if Keith would even talk to him if not for the fact that Black vouched for him. 

“I didn’t mean to take so much of your time.” Shiro tries lamely when Keith holds the kettle outside on a hook and a nearby Night Fury obediently brings it to a boil. 

“I should get back to my rounds.” Whether the tone is regretful, Shiro can’t tell. “But you can drink another cup before you leave.” 

It surprises Shiro to hear the ease in Keith’s tone -- like he is sure that Shiro and Black will one day return. When Shiro ignores the fresh tea to follow Keith outside, he realizes he fully intends on coming back. There is no question of  _ if _ , just  _ when. _

When Keith approaches Black and ushers her from the nest to fly, Shiro blurts, “My boat is at the beach.” 

It takes a moment, but Keith finally puts two-and-two together. “You really don’t fly her anymore.” His eyes dart down to Shiro’s missing arm before settling back on him in full. “I’ll take you down.” 

It’s a simple, harmless gesture of goodwill -- but Shiro can’t quell the panic that races through him at the thought of flying. Black and Keith are both watching him expectantly, waiting for Shiro to summon courage, when in reality all he wants to do is storm back into Keith’s house at the suggestion. 

There’s a saddle in Keith’s hand. It’s tiny. 

“Will that even fit us both?” Shiro croaks. 

“If you hold on tight.” It’s enough for Keith, who grabs Shiro’s hand long enough to drag him to Black. His dragon alights with excitement at the sight of them both approaching, flames crackling in the back of her throat in licks of red and purple. 

It’s then that Shiro knows he’s doomed. 

  
***

_ Slow and steady _ , Keith had assured him. 

The wind is screaming so loud in Shiro’s ears he’s sure to be deaf by the time they land. His arm is wrapped as tight as it will go around Keith’s impossibly tiny waist and his hand is clenched so tight he fears he may rip Keith’s shirt in the process. But none of this matters to Keith, who has them leap from the clifftop with careless abandon into the empty air below. 

The pit of Shiro’s stomach falls with the first drop and bounces back up when the wind is caught underneath Black’s wings in a loud  _ snap _ that Shiro hadn’t heard in years. She roars with delight and Keith crows in return, head thrown back as they barrel over the forest at a speed that rips the sound barrier to shreds. 

When adrenaline gets the best of Shiro and he finally peeresover Keith’s shoulder to watch the forest rapidly passing beneath them, it’s like being transported back to his prime. The breath leaves his lungs; only to return a second later in a triumphant call that both Black and Keith return. 

There’s a smile plastered to his face and tears stinging in his eyes because Shiro feels  _ alive.  _

His delighted laugh turns into another whoop when Black rolls in the air, wings outstretched in a dance that only she could make look graceful, just to snap back up at the last second before they are dashed against the trees. Strong wings pump them back up into the air just for Black to dive back down again, upside down, twisting until Shiro is sure he’ll fall.

But Keith keeps them grounded, one hand moving from Black’s reins to keep Shiro’s grip in place. 

With how fast Black is, the flight takes no time at all. It was disappointingly short but probably for the best, considering Shiro can’t stand straight nor shake his nervous giggling once dismounting. It’s enough to distract him from the fact that his boat was no longer safely harbored on the beach but instead smashed against the rocks the tide had revealed. 

Shiro, Keith, and Black stare at the sad remains until Keith clears his throat.

***

It’s too long a returning flight for Keith to leave the Isle, even with Atlas there to keep the peace. Shiro can’t shake the fear of riding Black alone, no matter how fun the flight to and from the beach was.    
  
Keith offers to let Shiro stay on the Isle until his next supply shipment is brought in two weeks from now. 

It’s far from an ideal situation -- especially when Shiro thinks about how much his disappearance will spark worry back home, considering his last joke with the pier master -- but there’s really no alternative. Keith doesn’t have a boat available (“Why would I use a boat when I have an entire Isle of dragons?” He had asked, completely deadpan), but he does have a house and enough supplies to keep Shiro as a guest for two weeks. 

“But not for free,” Keith adds when Shiro visibly relaxes. “If you’re going to eat half of my rations, then you’re going to help around here.” 

Shiro finds that exchange more than fair, and even begins to feel hopeful about the situation until they turn in for the first night and there’s only one bed. 

When Keith doesn’t make any note of the strikingly narrow bed, Shiro decides he won’t either and shucks off his shirt before crawling into the right side. Keith joins him a moment later, wearing only loose cotton pants, completely nonchalant as they settle side-by-side and let the noises of the night settle over them. 

Keith introduces Shiro to the Isle of Night’s routine at a shocking 4 AM wakeup time. Shiro wakes early -- old habit, with Black’s favorite time to go hunting being just before the light of dawn-- but even this feels ridiculous. He grumbles internally at Keith as he follows the other man through the motions of checking up on any eggs, the rowdier hatchlings, and then the parents themselves. 

Shiro’s favorite part of the whole thing is definitely when he gets to hold the eggs and feel them thrum with life in the curve of his palm. They find a few duds along the way, but most pairs have more than enough eggs to make up for a lost one here and there. 

The second day of Shiro’s stay, they find an abandoned nest with a lone egg remaining. 

Once Keith confirms it’s still alive, he has Shiro follow him down to a large nest at the base of the cliff. There, two large Night Furys rush to greet Keith and chuff excitedly when they see the egg in his hand. “Alright, alright, calm down.” Keith fondly chides as he sets the egg down in a nest already filled with three other eggs. “Take good care of this one too.” 

When they climb back up to the last nest they checked, Shiro asks, “Why did you give that egg to them? They looked like they had plenty already.” Night Fury nests ranged from single eggs to as many as six from what Shiro saw on the Isle, and a nest of three was plenty from the strung-out look of some parents. 

“They can’t have eggs themselves,” Keith shrugs as he approaches the next set of parents. “But they like to nest here every year anyway, go through the motions.” 

“Wow,” Shiro glances back down to the two dragons and delights in seeing they’ve already nudged the newest addition into the embers at the center of the nest, “you don’t hear of infertile dragons very often.” 

It takes a moment, but Keith turns from his current task of checking a cut along the Light Fury’s shoulder to fix Shiro with a puzzled look. “They’re not infertile?” 

Keith continues to stare at Shiro until he gets it, a startled laugh bursting from him at his surprise. “Oh!” It makes Keith snort in laughter, himself, so Shiro hurriedly says, “I guess, if humans…”

“It’s rare but not unseen. Especially here, where there’s hundreds of them at any point of time.” The surprise it drew from Shiro still leaves Keith looking amused, so Shiro does his best to wish away the embarrassment coloring his cheeks. It doesn’t work, judging from the way Keith continues to study him. “Does it really surprise you?” 

“I’m surprised, yes, but --” Shiro chuckles nervously here, unsure if his words are a good fit to how he feels, “also happy?” 

It’s enough for Keith. He laughs at Shiro’s clear nervous energy, but not in a malicious way. It’s almost….understanding. Shiro doesn’t allow himself to think too much about that as they continue on in their morning duties. 

The first few days go in a similar, smooth fashion, but Shiro can tell by the fourth morning that Keith is restless. He doesn’t know if the revelation comes to him so easily because they’ve shared food, drink, and even a bed, but Black confirms Shiro’s suspicions by whining at Keith once they step out into the dawn’s light. 

Keith laughs fondly at the whining sound, clearly used to it to some degree, and smooths a hand down her cheek, saying, “Go fly with your mate. Shiro and I will protect the egg.” It does nothing to placate the dragon, though. She just whines louder and looks helplessly to Shiro for support. 

“I don’t think she wants to fly with Atlas.” Shiro hums as he goes to stand against the cliff to survey their early-morning troubles. Since Shiro’s arrival, there hasn’t been much cleanup to do the following mornings. It left Keith and Shiro with more time to themselves, which means they end up sharing discovered Night Fury traits with each other until Atlas calls for the morning hunt. 

But, strangely enough, Keith hasn’t been using this time to fly with Black. Shiro knows he wants to -- Shiro desperately wants to go, too. At this point it’s just a matter of time before Keith loses his patience. 

They do say, ‘ _ Patience yields f--’ _

“You’ll be okay with the dragons by yourself?” Keith cuts off Shiro’s strange thought with a near desperate whine of his own. 

Shiro turns, warring with the confusion bubbling inside him and the disappointment that Keith clearly wasn’t planning on taking him along. “I can handle the early-risers. I’ve had a good teacher, after all.” 

“It’ll be a quick ride,” Keith says as he saddles Black up, his hands trembling with anticipation, “just along the coast.” 

“Take your time.” Shiro says in return, one hand on his hip as he watches Keith mount up with practiced ease. Black basically purrs underneath her rider with wings spread in anticipation. Shiro doesn’t blame her. 

“It’ll be 20 minutes, tops.”

“Yes, yes.” 

Keith opens his mouth again, possibly to reassure Shiro that,  _ really _ , the wind would carry a shout if he needed anything, but Black launches herself to the sky and leaves Shiro to himself. 

It hurts a little for Black to leave without even trying to take Shiro along but he’s learned not to expect to be included. 

It’s only when Atlas butts his head against Shiro’s back that he realizes what responsibility he’s been left with, instead. Shiro is still admiring the sight of the Isle waking when Atlas curls around himself, chuffing softly. With some hesitation, Shiro rests his hand on Atlas’ milky white shoulder, smooth as the cliffside stone, but the dragon does not shake him off. 

“I’m not very good with dragons.” Shiro admits to the cold blue eyes of Atlas. “Keith said you’re very picky, but -- Black is a good choice. Thank you for being with her.” 

There’s nothing inherently silly about being caught talking to a dragon -- they’re animated with their riders, normally imitating back sounds or chuffing in response. Shiro still feels like he’s talking to a wall when it comes to Atlas. The Light Fury is largely a mystery to him, to Keith, with no answer for why Atlas is covered in scars or refuses to leave the Isle like the others. 

He waits a moment before turning away, feeling doubly ignored, when Atlas butts against Shiro again. It’s a little harder this time so Shiro stumbles and looks back to Atlas quickly. 

By then, Atlas has already jumped down to the level below to start his rounds. Shiro catches sight of his graceful descent and thinks that maybe he really isn’t so bad with dragons after all. 

A sentiment that stays when Keith returns three hours later and sees the Isle is still standing. It’s mostly on fire -- but then again, it always is -- but everything is in order. Something in Shiro preens at how impressed Keith looks as he sweeps his gaze across the vast collection of nests and sees nothing amiss. 

Keith himself looks a wreck; his hair is tousled in every direction and cheeks pink from the cold air Black loves to glide in. He had looked a bit panicked, flying in so incredibly past his promised return time, but now he settles next to Shiro with shocked awe. 

Shiro took to sitting with Black’s egg, having long since finished everything that needed tending to. He’s only slightly smug by the time Keith laughs and asks him how things went. 

***

Every day following that, Keith flies with Black. He never takes more than three hours and oftentimes comes back with gifts for Shiro ‘as thanks for all his hard work’. Shiro doesn’t mind the work enough to demand any kind of pay besides a warm bed (shared with Keith) and whatever rations are available, but he’s not going to say  _ no  _ to the full antler set Keith presents with a grin. 

It’s a childish feeling at first; the glee Shiro feels when he hears the familiar sound of Black’s wingbeats. 

As far as Shiro can tell, Keith feels much the same. His smile is always bright when he dismounts Black and presents either knowledge or a physical gift for Shiro to admire. It wasn’t so long ago that Keith carefully kept to himself and his tasks -- the warmth of his trust morphs Shiro’s naive admiration into something hotter. 

Not that Shiro would act on it. Keith’s newfound friendship is mutual, yes, but that’s all it is; a companionship between two men who share a dragon, a bed, an Isle. 

That’s what he tells himself when Keith continues to bring him gifts, always gives him the biggest slice of meat for dinner, and sits with him during night watch talking about everything and nothing. 

They’re nearing their first full week together when Keith invites Shiro to fly. 

It’s a particularly beautiful morning, with clear skies and a pleasant temperature even the Night Furys take note of. A few are already flying about the Isle, stretching their wings, and Black looks eager to join them. Keith as well, with her saddle already balanced against his hip and jet-black hair roughly pulled back into a bun. “We’ll go wherever you want.” 

Shiro lifts his gaze down towards the beachfront where miles of blue sea stretch out, lapping lazily and stirred only by the occasional breeze. Home doesn’t have cliffsides like the Isle, but the sea looks much the same and just the scent of the salt water makes Shiro feel nostalgic for his seaside cabin. Keith looks expectant when Shiro turns back to him, tensed up in a way that betrays his excitement. 

“A short flight.” Shiro allows, and snorts when Keith bolts for Black at his words. “Black’s egg could hatch any day now, you know!” 

“She’ll let us know when it’s time,” Keith is grinning when he turns back to Shiro, devilish in his delight, “for now, we fly.” 

Shiro squeezes behind Keith and loops his arm around Keith’s waist to anchor him, same as last time. Only now, Shiro’s hyper aware of the way their thighs touch and how Keith’s ass is mashed against Shiro’s crotch when he settles in. Thankfully, Black moves before too long and the ground is suddenly gone from underneath them. 

Shiro’s stomach jumps up to his throat then drops with Black as she soars above the forest towards the beach. Shiro is just tall enough to see over Keith’s head and the view leaves him breathless. The last time they had flown like this, it had been the cusp of night with most of the Isle shrouded by the dark of twilight. Here, in the early morning light, Shiro can see as the trees whip past them -- Keith’s strong back and his hands holding them steady -- the score of Night Furys flying above and below them, calling out in elation -- and the sea rushing to meet them. 

“Hold tight!” Keith calls over the wind as they approach the water. Shiro doesn’t think he can possibly hold any tighter, but he hunches closer, recognizing the scream of the wind they are cutting through. Black dips, smooth as she skates just a breath above the water’s surface. The murky blue of the sea parts under the sheer pressure of her speed, leaving frothy white bubbles in their wake like a signature. 

_ I am here,  _ Black says,  _ there is no other like me _ .

Keith tilts her once they are out far enough, weaving around waves that crest up in the blink of an eye, moving without thinking. Black trusts his call and follows each silent direction, whipping so fast along the water Shiro’s head is spinning. 

Other dragons that are deep beneath the water breach the surface when they hear Black coming, greeting her with puffs of air and water that mists them and then is instantly blown off. Shiro laughs with the first splash of water and Keith echoes with a laugh of his own. Black roars with her own delight and skims even closer, slow enough that Shiro can reach down and trail his fingers through the water. 

But then she starts to pump her wings again and Shiro is quick to wrap his arm back around Keith’s waist, holding tight as Black climbs in altitude.    
  
Shiro can’t help it -- he closes his eyes. He hears the way Black’s wings pump, strong and sure, he can feel her breathing beneath him. Some of Keith’s hair has escaped its tie and tickles against Shiro’s cheek, distracting but not enough for Shiro to open his eyes. The air quickly thins until Keith and Shiro can only breathe shallowly, each gasp of air colder than the last until everything levels out. The snap of Black’s wings as they fan out to glide is what finally makes Shiro open his eyes. 

They’re in the clouds. 

It hadn’t felt like a long climb at all, but Shiro knows Black would never waste their time with a mediocre flight. The sight is breathtaking -- quite literally -- with puffy clouds amassing around them like balls of cotton, broken through by the bluest sky Shiro has ever seen. 

But he has seen this before. It’s been years, but -- 

Shiro finds himself smiling. Black always has had a strange way of showing her care. 

The glide here is easy enough that Shiro doesn’t have to cling to Keith so desperately, so he takes advantage of it and reaches towards the closest cloud. The water vapor is cold, almost icy, and Shiro wonders if it’s due to rain soon. He almost giggles at the thought.

“I never get tired of this.” Keith says after a moment, when Black lifts them above a mass of clouds and the sun is visible against the horizon. It’s still low in the sky, with the barest dusting of pink against blue. Dawn. 

Shiro’s first instinct is to thank Keith, but that feels foolish after all they’ve gone through. So instead he just tucks a stray piece of hair back into place and says, “It’s beautiful.” 

With a laugh, Keith turns back and looks at Shiro, eyes glittering in the dawn’s soft light. Something seems to go unspoken between the two of them then, as Shiro looks into Keith’s eyes and Keith meets him without a shred of hesitation. Shiro nearly has a word for this look, this feeling, when a clap of thunder sounds off to their immediate right. 

It spooks Black from her easy glide so fast that there’s no moment to react. 

Shiro hears Keith yell his name and only then does he realize what’s happened; he’s falling. The wind screams in his ears, unkind and nothing like how it feels to ride on Black, ripping at his clothes and stealing all breath from Shiro’s lungs. He can’t close his eyes. He can’t breathe. He can’t see Black. 

He can’t accept that this is how he’s going to die. 

There -- a dark blur against the clouds. Black is fast but even this might be impossible for her. Shiro doesn’t want to see his dragon’s look of anguish as she tries to stop the inevitable.

So he closes his eyes. 

There’s a call on the wind, barely heard, but Shiro would swear it was Keith calling to him. Shiro has only enough time to wonder if the call was real or not before the wind starts to scream again -- but this scream is familiar, a sound unmistakable to any Night Fury rider. 

Shiro snaps his eyes open just in time to see a dragon burst from the clouds, blue eyes trained on Shiro. 

***

It’s a blessing to touch land. Even more so when you’re still alive. 

Shiro dismounts Atlas with shaky legs but barely has a moment to breathe before Black is pouncing on him, licking his face and crooning her worry until Shiro begs mercy. She keeps him pinned to the sand even when she stops, and then it’s Keith’s turn to worry all over Shiro. 

He kneels beside Shiro in the sand and they just … stare at each other. It’s an unspoken truth that if a rider falls off their dragon, especially that high up, they will die. But Atlas had been there, cloaked in dawn’s light, and he had -- 

Keith finally breaks his staring to pat Atlas’ white hide in thanks. Atlas huffs, playing it cool, but he has an undeniably proud look to him. 

“You saved me.” It’s all Shiro can think to say. 

“I didn’t realize he was following us.” Keith helps Shiro to his feet when Shiro makes no move to get up, hands quick to wipe away any clinging sand. The saliva from Black makes it impossible and eventually Keith gives up to stare down Atlas. “Were you worried?” 

Atlas doesn’t have to respond for Shiro to know the truth of the matter -- though their time together was short, there’s been an undeniable pull between them the entire time. 

When Shiro goes to place his hand on Atlas’ neck, the Light Fury tenses immediately with a shocked hiss. There, in that moment, is the test. Shiro pauses for only a breath before touching his hand to the cool white scales. The hide is wrought with scars and chipped iridescent scales but still Shiro does not let his touch waver, stopping only when he has moved close enough to press his head to Atlas’ neck. 

The beat of Atlas’ heat is thundering, reminiscent of the shock that tore Shiro from Black’s saddle not once, but twice. He’s  _ scared.  _ The hide under Shiro’s hand is still tense with fear but Shiro can feel the warmth there too, building the longer Shiro holds his ground and trusts that Atlas will not kill him. 

When he opens his eyes, Shiro meets Black’s gaze across the beach. 

It is only with her approval that Shiro pulls away. He can’t name what this is -- the bond between human and dragon has a hundred names in a hundred different languages but none capture the true spark of energy that comes from it. Years may have passed but no amount of time would ever make Shiro forget what it felt like to bond with Black. 

That he feels that same call singing in his very blood at the sight of Atlas leaves Shiro without words. 

Atlas blinks slowly in understanding and bows his head to his rider, only to chuff in delight when Shiro presses their foreheads together in a show of equality. 

There’s still a long road ahead of them, as man and dragon, but Shiro thinks he can finally feel the wind beneath his wings. 

***

***

***

As it turns out, it takes longer for a hybrid to hatch. 

Shiro has long overstayed his two-week stay by the time the hatchling starts to break through their eggshell. It’s dusk and Black has refused to move from her nest for the entire day. Were Shiro alone, he would have worried for Black’s health -- but Keith only laughed, kissed Shiro, and told him to ready himself for their newest family member. 

Admittedly, Shiro lost himself a little to the kiss but the promise of a new dragon was enough to snap him from his honeymoon glow. 

It’s Atlas that breaks down the door to the shack and drags Shiro to the nest to see. A few dishes are broken in the scuffle but one does not deny a Light Fury. 

Shiro gets to his knees to watch each piece of eggshell fall off, bit by bit, and only dares look away when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Keith smiles down at him and asks, “Are you ready?” 

It’s both a question and not because this egg will hatch either way. Keith knows that. Shiro knows that. But he still delights in covering Keith’s hand with his own and saying, “Always.” 


End file.
